Of Boltshells and Sacrifice
by BlueQueBall
Summary: An Imperial Fists company boards a colossal space hulk and must overcome its ork infestation to send it back into Warp space before it collides with a hiveworld.


In a galaxy whose only light is the billowing flame of war, a lone dreadnought skulked silently in the its darkest corners. On the eastern fringes of the strife-ridden Segmentum Ultima, in the Calinius system, Warp turbulence forced open a portal through which a massive hulk entered the Materium. Immense and ancient, the derelict warship floated through the oppressive emptiness of space, quietly spectating the brutal pangalactic struggle for supremacy. Its fine structures have survived the perilous storms of the Warp from which it escaped. The vaulted, ornate architecture of the monstrous vessel echoed of times long since passed as light from Calinius IV's moon danced across its many surfaces. Its form, unique from modern starships, was covered in a strange film that gave a faint, viridescent glow. The gloomy warship shone as a symbol of the very heights of human technology during the Dark Age.

"Brother Frederick, Brother Alindar, what have you to report?" asked the Astartes whose short, white beard hung from his scarred and cybernetically augmented face. The bright yellow helmet bound to his hip was crowned with a laurel wreath. Frederick activated his cogitator and the large display before the three figures lit up. Cast upon the screen was an image of a colossal dreadnought.

"Scout ships have scanned the hulk and have identified it as the Corrupted Divination," he said, going through the ship information on his cogitator.

"So, this is the what the Administratum is worried about?" the bearded marine said with fire in his eyes.

"Yes, Captain Sigismund," said the techmarine. "The Cult Mechanicus estimates that this hulk predates the Heresy by at least eight millennia, and the architecture indicates human origin. We know that it is now infested with orks and that whatever technologies lie aboard are likely befouled by the ork menace."

"The hulk is on a collision course with the hiveworld Calinius III," said Frederick, "and projections show that the impact of a body this large would result in the destruction of at least eighty-five percent of its biosphere."

"And the orks in tow would claim another victory against the Imperium," responded the captain. "My brothers, you already know that I refuse to countenance xeno filth, wherever it may lie."

"Of course, brother-captain, and a glorious purge it shall be. This alien scum stands powerless before the Emperor's finest warriors," Frederick said.

"Alindar, how do you suppose we stop this hulk?"

"We have detected latent Warp fields near the ship's engines," Alindar said. Sigismund looked quizzically at the techmarine. "Though I, too, would deign to believe the greenskins capable of repairing Dark Age infrastructure, the presence of these fields suggest that the vessel's Warp-drive remains operational."

"If a squad of our brothers were able to activate the Warp-drive, they would be able to send the hulk back into the Immaterium before planetfall," said Frederick.

"And what of our brother Astartes? Will our boarding force be able to return before the jump?" asked Sigismund.

"Between whatever defences the orks may possess, the perilous nature of space hulks, and the sheer size of the Corrupted Divination, it is unlikely that any marines that fight their way to the bridge will return to the teleport beacon before the ship returns to Warp space."

"Very well, then. An opportunity for glory has landed in our lap. I shall raise our battle-brothers from their prayer," the captain said. With that, Captain Sigismund hastily left the command room.

As the mighty Imperial Fists fleet reentered realspace, the awesome sight of the Corrupted Divinaton instilled a sense of awe to the initiates and marines at the bridge of the imperial battleship Teros. The derelict warship dwarfed the Teros and every ship in the local fleet. The vaulted architecture of the large, gilded arches spun loops about the warship reminiscent of ring systems on some planets. The hulk exhibited the epitome of high gothic architecture with its ornate flying buttresses, detailed and menacing towers, and fine stained glass windows that were the breadth of an Imperial cruiser. Gazing through the window in the great hall, Sigismund beheld the colossal warship and marveled at what horrors may lie beneath its calm surface. Soon enough, the great hall was filled with Imperial Fists marines.

"Battle-brothers, hear me!" announced the captain, looking out over a golden sea of warriors. "As you know, we approach the well-preserved space hulk known as the 'Corrupted Divination.' It hurtles towards a hiveworld ill-equipped to handle such a monstrosity, threatening billions of imperial citizens. The Administratum has designated the proud and noble 1st Company of the Imperial Fists to purge the wicked orks and send the cursed hulk back into the Warp." He motioned to the techpriests with his armored hand. "This space hulk is infested with vicious xeno scum, and as such, the techpriests shall anoint squads one through eight with tactical dreadnought armor before boarding." Sigismund looked proudly over his company. "Report to Chaplain Ricard for blessing, and may the Emperor protect us all. You are dismissed." With that, the space marines broke off into their squads, some going to the mechanists and others communing with the chaplain. The seventh squad congregated at the starboard window of the great hall.

"A terrific sight indeed, isn't it, Brother Haraldus?" asked one of the seventh squad Astartes to another as they all gazed at the hulk. His short black hair hung lightly above his ears.

"Well, only as terrific as a massive piece of space junk can be, I suppose," said Haraldus as he put an arm around the first marine. He turned his aged, sunburnt face to the first marine with a joyful grin.

"I hardly find it 'junk.' Imagine what relics lay hidden in such an ancient hulk. I don't believe we've even seen one this old."

"Old though it may be, the hulk is still infested with orks in need of a good thrashing Iacobos," said the third marine whose short gray beard hung from deeply scarred face. He counted and recounted the notches on his chainsword.

"We'll do more than thrash them, Artin, believe me," Haraldus said. "Brother Percival, you seem uncharacteristically quiet." The fourth marine whose armor bore two purity seals chuckled at the jest. His curly brown beard was accompanied by hard features.

"Yes, and I see that decades of battle have left you uncharacteristically jovial at the prospect of boarding a space hulk," jested Percival.

"Indeed," interjected the sergeant of the squad. "I do not expect that your jests will tickle the orks to death, especially when we unleash our fury upon them."

"And I certainly do not expect him to refrain from trying, brother-sergeant," said Iacobos, patting Haraldus on the back. As Percival and Iacobos laughed, Artin spoke up.

"Brother-Sergeant Raul, how soon does battle come?"

"At least a days' time, I suspect," replied the sergeant. His striking blue eyes stared out into the void, transfixed by the magnificence of the hulk.

"My hands ache to make war upon these foul greenskins."

"I know, brother," Raul said, addressing the squad. "We have spilt much blood in the name of the Emperor, and we will spill yet more on the morrow. Let's to the chaplain, brothers. The hulk shall not be leaving anytime soon." Raul led his men out of the ship's great hall and to the chaplain to commune and receive blessing before the treacherous assault.

As the hours passed, Sigismund's fleet neared the Corrupted Divination. The Teros' boarding ships were primed and the Astartes had been armed for battle. Forty terminators stood at the ready, prepared for any fell machinations that the orks may have prepared for their unwelcome guests. The seventh squad stood in their boarding ship, accompanied by Chaplain Ricard. The lights were steady and red as the terminators surrounded the astropath in the main room.

"We've only minutes before landing, brothers," said the pilot.

"Thank you, Brother Tarcin," said Raul as his brother marines finished their prayers.

"And soon, we shall commence our gruesome task. Keep the Emperor in your hearts, brothers," said the chaplain.

"As always, chaplain," said Raul. He donned his red and white helmet. "It seems rather last-minute for you to be joining us, Ricard."

"Your squad has been tasked with starting the Warp-drives. The fate of billions rests on this one squad's mission. It is only fitting that I lead you, for the Emperor's light must guide you and your brothers to victory."

"The extra boltgun won't hurt either," said Artin as he rose. "The orks will not know what hit them."

"Just remember, old boy: cleansing the hulk is secondary to our objective," said Haraldus. Artin glared at Haraldus as he put on his helmet.

"The billions of souls that died on Nirios cry out for vengeance against the ork menace, and I am their champion." Artin gave his chainsword a practice swing. "Save your endearments for the greenskins, 'old boy.' I'm sure their corpses will appreciate them more than I." Haraldus paid Artin's biting retort no mind as he donned his own helmet. Percival placed himself between the two.

"Artin, save your fury, my brother," he said. "There will be no shortage of orks on whom you may dispense it."

"Ready your bolters, my lords; it is time," the astropath said as the boarding ship's thrusters disengaged. Iacobos and Percival put on their helmets and joined the other terminators in surrounding the astropath.

"Alright, men," said Ricard, "the other squads shall board the ship and cleanse the orks. We shall be teleported to the bridge of the dreadnought and activate the Warp-drive, eliminating any resistance." He raised his Crozius Arcanum. "For the glory of the Primarch-Progenitor!" The five terminators raised their powerfists, power swords, and thunder hammers.

"And the glory of Him on Earth!" they shouted. Fists still raised, the astropath began to groan in agony. She screamed loudly as a strong Warp field surrounded the Astartes. Within seconds, they disappeared from the plain interior of the boarding vessel. The squad spent a few moments adrift on Warp tides before finding themselves aboard the Corrupted Divination.

"Seventh squad, report in," said Chaplain Ricard as he marveled at his surroundings. He had been teleported to a massive room with vaulted ceilings and fine architecture that had been defaced with ork markings. Ancient sigils in unknown tongues are etched into the walls and flooring.

"Brother Iacobos, reporting, chaplain." Iacobos emerged from behind one of the many bookcases that litter the room. "These tapestres bear markings that are unlike anything I've ever encountered."

"Brother Artin, reporting," he said as he marched past tribalistic ork banners that hang from the ceiling. He brushed them aside with his chainsword as he approached the group.

"Brother Haraldus, reporting." Haraldus approached the chaplain and motioned to the two doors on either side of the room. "This room does not seem to be the bridge area, but some sort of storage chamber."

"Brother Percival, reporting, brother-chaplain." Percival was transfixed by the opulent majesty of the simple storage room, so much so that he almost dropped his thunder hammer.

"Sergeant Raul, reporting in." Raul checked his cogitator. "Chaplain Ricard, we have missed our teleport trajectory. We are currently in the aft end of the brig, and the bridge lies several hundred meters above us." He pointed with his power sword to the door behind them.

"That will delay us, but the Emperor shall spirit us to our objective," Ricard said. He looked at the sergeant with expectation.

"On me, borthers! Brother Iacobos, take the rear," announced Raul.

"By your orders," said Iacobos as he readied his storm bolter. With bolters primed, the squad entered the rearmost door and found themselves in the space hulk's cramped passageways. Despite their lack of breadth, the halls were no less opulent, draped in fine, bright red swags that hung along the walls. The darkness of the hulk prompted the terminators to activate their flashlights, revealing the dust and stray debris that signified the passing of thousands of years. Ever vigilant were the space marines as they navigated the labyrinthine halls of this strange hulk. The silence that hung over the steady, heavy footfalls of the noble Astartes was broken by the sound of gunfire and yelling.

"Down the hall, brothers, with haste!" said the sergeant. The Astartes made their way through the passage and approached the bulkhead. Sergeant Raul opened the door and before him lay a tumultuous scene. A large bulwark stood between the seventh squad and a horde of entrenched orks firing upon another squad of terminators. The space marines already inside were taking cover in the dimly lit chamber. Bullets flew everywhere, tearing up the fineries of the ancient chamber, and various black-clad orks suppressed the Astartes such that retreat was impossible. The chamber was completely defaced, covered in ork symbols and Goff insignias.

"O'er dere! More 'umies!" shouted a large nob to his subordinates. He had several human skulls on a chain about his neck. "Make sure ta kill dese termies extra 'ard!"

"Brothers, get down!" yelled one of the suppressed Imperial Fists as the orks turned their boomgun towards the chaplain's squad. The seventh squad dove for the bulwark before them and assumed defensive positions. A large explosion shook all the dust in the room as a tank shell ripped through the wall behind the seventh squad. The sergeant looked to the other terminators who were assuming cover behind a large, collapsed column.

"Status report, Brother Manius!" yelled Sergeant Raul to the suppressed terminator squad as the rest of the terminators shot their storm bolters.

"Sergeant Xander and Brother Olis lie dead at the hands of these orks. Jericho, Finwald, and I are all that remain of eighth squad," said Manius before taking a few shots at the orks. Manius was quickly forced behind his cover by another hail of bullets.

"Then let us teach these greenskins a lesson in humility!" shouted Ricard as he fired his storm bolter. The boltshells tore apart a chunk of enemy cover before blowing an ork's arm off. A gout of blood painted the floor as the ork fell over in a heap. The orks continued to fire their shootas and sluggas while the team manning the boomgun struggled to load another shell into the ramshackle artillery piece. A streak of bullets struck Iacobos as he leaned out of cover to aim, but his the plasteel and ceramite of his armor deflected the incoming fire. As the space marines continued to trade fire with the orks, scores fell to their expertly placed shots. Orks were dismembered and ripped apart by the flying boltshells. With the tide turning and more boyz dying, the large nob draped in skulls smacked one of the smaller nobs in the head.

"'Ey, old boy, 'and me my choppa! It's time to show dese 'umies wha' real Goffs is made of!" He gritted his teeth in a grim smile.

"Which'un d'ya want, Dordull?" asked a slightly smaller nob.

"The big'un, ya stupid git!" replied the big nob. The smaller nob handed him a large axe equipped with a chainsaw blade. He climbed atop the ramparts of the ork fortification while boltshells flew past him. "Now, let's show dese 'umies wha' it means ta mess wif Drodull's boyz!" Dordull raised his choppa and let out a triumphant "WAAAGH!" that rallied his fellow orks into a frenzied blood rage. They all drew their choppas of various sorts and vaulted the defences, charging headlong into bolter fire. Scores of orks were shot down and trampled, but they closed the distance quickly.

"Iacobos, Haraldus, cover Manius's squad!" shouted Raul. The sound of another explosion shook the chamber as dust shot up in the air. As the smoke cleared, Raul saw rubble where Manius's squad had been. A bloody pile of shredded ceramite was all that was left of Brother Finwald.

"Finwald is down!" yelled Jericho as a mob of orks surrounded him and Manius. Haraldus laid down heavy fire upon the orks assaulting the pair, cutting down and blowing apart much of the unending green tide. Several orks swung choppas into Manius, cracking his armor. Manius responded with one heavy swing of his power fist. The blow connected with one ork, crushing its wretched body into a pile of muscles and innards. With another swing, another ork was contorted by the force of the blow into a grotesque form that flew into the crowd behind it. Jericho shot his bolter over Manius's shoulder, killing more of the orks that harassed his squad mate.

"Behind you!" shouted Manius as a large nob swung an over-sized meat cleaver at Jericho's extended arm. With a loud crack, Jericho's hand was cut clean off, dropping his storm bolter. Jericho let out a groan of pain before swinging his power fist into the nob. The blow connected with the ork's muscular frame, causing its shoulder to explode and its respective arm to drop to the ground. The nob, seemingly unhindered, swung the flat of his cleaver at Jericho, knocking the space marine to the ground. Spewing guttural war cries and profanities, the surrounding orks began to swing away at the downed terminator as Manius kept most at bay with his power fist. The armless nob laughed as Jericho was surrounded and struck countless times by crude blades and clubs. The laughter was cut short by a hail of boltshells that blew open the nob's chest, causing his stinking guts to fall out onto the ground as his chest exploded into bony meat chunks. What was left his body fell over. Manius turned to see that Iacobos's aim held true as his bolter overheated.

"'E's dead! Let's get out o' 'ere, boyz!" cried one ork as he witnessed the nob's death. The orks began to back away as Jericho rose to his feet, wildly swinging his power fist at the orks as they retreated and regrouped with the main horde. Manius and Jericho took cover once again behind what was left of the column. Seeing his battle-brothers relieved, Sergeant Raul scaled the bulwark.

"Artin, Ricard, Percival, to me, my brothers!" Raul yelled, raising his power sword in the air. Raul, Artin, Ricard, and Percival charged into the orc horde as Iacobos and Haraldus continued to shoot from cover. The two sides met in a horrific crash. Raul sliced open an ork's stomach with his power sword. The putrid guts fell onto the ground as the ork screamed in pain, leaving himself open for Raul to plunge the sword into its chest. A gang of orks lashed out at Percival, striking his storm shield with their choppas. Percival swung his thunder hammer, missing one ork and reducing another to a meaty pulp. A nob attempted to crush Percival in his power klaw, but he blocked with his shield. While distracted, Artin's chainsword bit into the nob's head. With a wet crunch, the teeth bit into his skull and tore apart his brain, spreading blood and viscera all over Artin's armor. Artin dislodged his blade from the ork's skull and regained his balance as Ricard bludgeoned multiple orks to death with his Crozius. A pair of nobs descended upon Raul, smashing their choppas into him. The sergeant parried a few strikes with his sword, but most connected with his armor. A stream of boltshells from Manius cut down half a score of orks that surrounded the trio in pitched combat. As they exchanged blows and as boltshells flew, Dordull swung his chainaxe at Artin, who barely parried the blow with his chainsword. Artin missed two strikes with his sword, and Dordull countered with a slice across the marine's chest, carving a deep gash in his armor and knocking him to the ground. Dordull laughed heartily as he raised his big choppa in the air. Seeing his comrade in danger, Percival disengaged his enemies and rushed to Artin's defence. The nob's chainaxe struck Percival's storm shield. Sparks flew as the teeth grinded against the metal. Dordull, frustrated by the blow's inefficacy, grasped the storm shield and wrenched it out of Percival's hand, casting it aside. An ork struck Percival in the leg from behind with his choppa, cracking the plasteel and wounding the Astarte. Percival fell to his knee and was struck in the head with the haft of Dordull's chainaxe, casting the marine to the ground. Dordull turned his attention back to Artin, who had already struggled to his feet. Having lost his grip on his bolter, Artin took his chainsword in two hands and barely fended off the ork boyz that attacked him while he was down. His armor was battered and chipped from the choppas. As Raul was locked in desperate battle with the two nobs, one of the nobs raised his killsaw only to be cut down by a hail of boltshells that reduced him to a gory mess plastered all over the floor. Raul looked to Haraldus, whose storm bolter had just overheated.

"For the Emperor!" Haraldus shouted as he leapt into the fray, pulping multiple orks with his power fist. He carved a swathe of death as he made his way to Percival, who struggled to stand himself up as choppas bit into his armor. One blow knocked his helmet off and carved a gash across his face and neck. Looking up at the ork responsible, Percival gritted his teeth and prepared for the killing blow. As the ork raised his axe, his upper body exploded in gore and blood, painting Percival in ork entrails. Haraldus withdrew his power fist from the broken corpse and helped Percival to his feet. "Just like old times, eh?"

"Indeed, brother!" yelled Percival, gripping his thunder hammer in two hands. As Percival and Haraldus continued to slay orks, Raul finished off the nobs with whom he fought, along with several ork boyz. Wrenching his power sword from one of the nobs' corpses, he moved to assist Artin who had withstood a fury of blows from Dordull. The large ork parried every strike Artin made, which only infuriated Artin. His attacks became less graceful and more haphazard as his rage took over. Dordull found a choice opening in the Asterte's defences. He swung his chainaxe at Artin's free arm. The blow connected, sparks flying as the serrated edge ate through his armor. Artin's arm flew in a bloody arc through the air, landing with a sickening, wet thud.

"Artin!" screamed Raul. Incensed, he charged Dordull with all his might. As he raised his power sword to slash the nob, Ricard let out a piercing cry.

"Incoming!" he screamed. A large explosion went off as a boomgun tank shell ripped through floor before Raul and the nob. The force from the blast blew them both away. Artin, Percival, Haraldus, and dozens of ork boyz were caught in the blast. The intense heat from the flames melted most of the nearby orks, who died agonizing deaths in a baptism of fire. The din of the mêlée was quieted for a moment as smoke from the explosion obscured the battlefield. Raul breathed in sharply and raised himself from the ground. He saw no traces of Dordull, and most of the boyz either dead or wandering around confused in the smoke. He caught a glimpse of Artin, whose charred and battered body lay atop a heap of dead orks. Raul struggled to his feet and hobbled towards Artin, observing Haraldus, Percival, and Chaplain Ricard stirring to consciousness.

"Brother Artin, are you alive?" asked the wounded sergeant. No sooner had he asked than had the shambling body of Dordull risen to his feet. He dragged his chainaxe towards Artin. Raul raised his storm bolter and took aim at the nob, but the clicking noise signified that he had spent his magazine. He struggled to move to Artin's aid, but the nob was quicker than he.

"Oy, dere's dat sword swinga 'umie!" shouted an orc from behind Raul. A flurry of bullets struck Raul from behind, penetrating his rear armor. He fell to the ground, with a loud thud. He coughed up a clot of blood as he looked on at the scene before him. Dordull grasped Artin by the collar of his terminator armor and raised him to meet his green face. Peering through the half-broken helm of the marine, he was given pause.

"Wait just a minute, I recanize ya ugly mug," he said as he peeled off the helm to reveal Artin's blood covered face. "You're tha banana boy that I fough' on one 'a ya 'umie worlds."

"I wish I could say that I recognized you, alien filth," said Artin as he struggled to remain conscious.

"Yeah, ya weren't wearin' this battle box o' yours, but you fight like the banana boy I saw. You killed a lot o' my boyz, ya did," said Dordull. "Since I saw youz fight, I've been itchin' ta get my 'ands on ya to see which one o' us was betta." Dordull laid Artin's limp body back down on the pile of boyz. "It's a shame, really. Ya woulda made a fine ork." The ork spit over his shoulder before raising his chainaxe. With a crashing sound, he brought the chainaxe down onto Artin's chest, tearing through his armor and biting into his flesh. Blood sprayed from the open wound as the spinning saw blade was buried deep in the marine's chest. Artin gritted his teeth as the chain axe chewed through his bone and muscle, and then he breathed his last. As the smoke cleared, the space marines began to fire their bolters at the remaining orks. "Regroup, ya gits!" shouted Dordull as pulled his chainaxe from Artin's corpse and led what was left of his ork band in full retreat. Haraldus continued to fire as he and Percival turned over Raul's body. When the last of the Goffs left through the bulkhead behind their entrenchment, the doors slammed shut. Ricard ceased firing and approached Raul's body.

"Do you live, brother-sergeant?" asked Percival. Raul coughed up more blood onto his armor. Having dropped his bolter and power sword, he struggled with every word.

"How are my wounds, brother?" he gurgled through the blood.

"Their shots have torn though your armor," said Ricard. "You may yet live, but you cannot continue as you are."

"Hand me my sword, brother-chaplain. I will fight," said Raul. The chaplain did not move. Haraldus picked up the power sword and handed it to Raul, who used it to rise to his feet.

"Are you mad? You cannot fight in your current condition," said Ricard.

"It was by my own incompetence that Artin died, and it shall be by my blade that his death is given meaning."

"Remember, brother-marine: your life belongs to the Emperor. I cannot allow you to cast it away senselessly."

"Chaplain, you must allow me to cleanse this stain upon my honor!" said the exasperated sergeant. Ricard placed a hand upon Raul's pauldron.

"Not if you aim to wash it clean in your own blood. Your squad, your chapter, needs you alive. You must understand."

"What use am I standing idly by while my brothers die at the hands of these orks? Command me and I shall obey." Raul leaned heavily upon his sword, barely able to hold up his own terminator armor.

"Then I shall command you as a senior officer. Stand down, brother," Ricard said with a twinge of melancholy. He then activated his cogitator. "Brother Tarcin, battle-brothers Olis, Finwald, Xander, and Artin have died. Brother-Sergeant Raul is too grievously wounded to continue. Activate the teleport homer."

"By your orders, chaplain," replied Brother Tarcin. Percival knelt to Raul as Iacobos re-joined the squad.

"Worry not, Sergeant Raul. We shall avenge Artin for the honor of the chapter," he said.

"My faith in you is implicit, Percival," said Raul. Soon enough, a blue orb appeared at his chest and at the bodies of the deceased space marines. Arcing bolts of blue energy coursed into their armors before their bodies disappeared into the Warp. The chamber was quiet once again, with the six Astartes reloaded and prepared for the journey upwards. The three terminators of the seventh squad stood apart from the chaplain.

"I can sense the tension between us, brothers," Ricard said as he examined the bulkhead. "Were Raul able to continue with us, I would have bidden him fight for the honor and glory of our Emperor."

"You denied him service and death in His name, the highest of all honors," said Haraldus, wiping the blood off his power fist. "His retreat from the mission constitutes a far greater stain upon our honor as a squad."

"A stain made all the more disgraceful by your mandate, brother-chaplain," Iacobos said. "Are the lives of the Emperor's finest warriors not to be laid down in His name? What can be said of the faith of cowards?" Ricard turned to face the squad.

"Speak your piece about my decisions as commander, but I will not suffer my faith nor my bravery to be questioned!" shouted the incensed chaplain. He stepped towards Iacobos. "Tell me, then: who can better serve the God-Emperor? An able-bodied marine," the chaplain said as he gestured to a dead ork, "or a broken corpse?" A silence hung over the Astartes at this provocation. Haraldus and Iacobos stood down. "We must press onward to the bridge," said Ricard having collected himself, "that Artin's loss may not be in vain." He pointed his Crozius towards the ork entrenchment. "Let us bring death to this ork filth." Iacobos approached the bulkhead's control panel, clipping his bolter to his hip.

"The bulkhead is sealed. I will have to override the locks," he said. He manipulated the console as Percival wiped the ork chunks off his storm shield.

"We've only hours before planetfall, brothers," said the chaplain. "The fate of billions rests upon us."

"Worry not, brother-chaplain," spoke Percival. "By His holy will, we shall send this hulk back into the Warp."


End file.
